Ashened Sunshine
by messy-cheesecake
Summary: He hated how there smiles were just immatations of the one he longed to see.even with flames pouring out of there mouths they couldn't put sunshine to shame the way he did.
1. prologue

A/N:Hellos peoples so this is my first fanfic ever! Constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated. Rating may go up in later chapters so be warned! Also be wary of character oc/ness

**Warnings for this chapter**: like one cuss word

**Disclaimer**: I wished I owned Hetalia but I don't.

Prologue

He supposed he should have seen it coming. Then again how does one see their sanity crack? Maybe it wasn't a sight but more of a feeling. He imagined it would feel like the vibrations of fault lines shifting, crumbling the city of nerves his brain harbored. Thus leaving him in this...hysterical...No he wasn't hysteric...Yet.

Bitter laughter emitted from his throat, if he kept predicting how he was soon to act he'd lose plea of insanity. Then again he'd neither seen nor heard anything as of yet so there was no proof he was insane, maybe he was just a sick fuck. It mattered not because he'd rather be neither. Both were like a butterfly getting one wing ripped off, damned, which he was. And well...hypothetically speaking it could all be blamed on something or rather someone. It was his love for this someone that had morphed and taken on so many different roles over the hundreds of years that he had known the lad that put him in this... delicate state. He could see how it had gone from caring older brother to spiteful enemies to best friends and on good days he could have even admitted to a one sided love. But here is where the issue lies, he has no recollection how this love -he highly doubted if it should be called such an innocent term anymore- became such a sick, bitter obsession. An obsession that had lead to a rather ...creative outlet, then again he was doing _them_ a favor.

So was he really in the wrong? For making their smiles burn like the sun, for making rain fall from cloudless blue eyes? He didn't think so. But alas the acidic green eyed man was so engrossed with his task at making them smile like his own blue eyed love that he didn't notice that in the ruins of his mind, there was an echo of "then why were they screaming"?


	2. Chapter 1

**Warnings: sensitive stuff is hinted at **

**Disclaimer: if I owned hetalia there'd be lots more US/UK **

**So I'd like to apologize ahead of time for any grammar and spelling mistakes. I fail at both **

**Chapter one**

World meetings, they really were nothing more but a hindrance in Arthur's life. A thorn in his side, the pain in his ass after sitting on an uncushioned chair all day long. He really could go on and on about how unpleasant they were, especially since today's meeting was being held in his own cherished London. And Arthur, a perfect gentleman, was to play the role of a gracious host. He was to bite his tongue, make sure all the other countries were well accommodated and then attempt comfort himself with the thought of the others getting lost on the way over. But it seemed as though fate was not on the representative of the United Kingdom's side today. So far all the countries were heading through the wide double oak door, on time, in groups of 2's and 3's. So much for getting lost he thought. "Damn foiled by the buddy system once again" he grumbled putting on a slight pout. He really should have attempted to separate the schedule and map literates from not so map savvy ones.

But the blond haired mans thoughts had always been a bit spacey. So consequently, rather than mourn his ignored prayers, his grass hilled tinted eyes started to scan the room for _him._ The person who always seemed to send a pack of butterfly's into a frenzy of exotic movement in his stomach. Though Arthur admitted it was foolish to look. He, and everyone else for that matter, would notice when his butterfly tamer made his appearance. It was pretty hard to miss a person charging into a room with a boisterous "the hero has arrived" gracing his grin. And speaking of the devil or in this case thinking always did seem to summon it. So it was no surprise to Arthur when Alfred came striding through the door with a booming "The hero has arrived!" Arthur could feel a small grin trying to make its way on his lips; he was pleasantly surprised America was on time. "Ho Ho what is this, are your _smiling_, Angleterre?" an annoying French accented mouth whispered near his ear. He felt a body shift beside him and a hand on his shoulder.

"Ugh so help me god France if your hands start to wonder lower I will castrate you _without _anesthetics" Arthur growled to the not so space conscious Frenchmen. "Ah being your conservatively-cute self like always I see mon petit lapin" sighed a disappointed France, who had lifted his hands in defeat. He rather cherished is manhood and there were many others he could molest without a fight. "Do not call me that you frog!" The now red faced Arthur knew what _mon petit lapin _meant and he was so not the frogs "little bunny".

"Wow the meeting hasn't even started yet and you two are already going at it?" chirped the annoying over jovial voice that belonged to Alfred. "Oh Shut it you git" puffed the temperamental Englishmen, hey just cause he may have admitted to himself a few months ago he loved the idiot does not mean he had to act like it. "Hey don't go insulting the hero that has come to save you from the French creeper." And now Arthur, whose face had been once red in anger, was now pink with the kind of embarrassment that only Alfred could bring out in him. "Your words they wound me Amérique, Angleterre does not need rescuing from mon amour!" lamented France. And before any more could be said by the other two blond men an angry German voice rang through the room telling everyone to get into their assigned seats because the meeting was about to start.

And being the host country of this month's meeting meant Arthur was to present first. He showed power points on what his scientist thought should be done about global warming, ideas to stimulate the world's economy and other issues that were deemed important to the world. When he was finally done he couldn't help but release an annoyed sigh. As always only a few countries were actually paying attention while everyone else was of in lalala land or something similar to it...Jerks. So when the next country came up and began presenting, he was shocked to find himself drifting. He had always prided himself in being one of the attentive countries, diligently taking notes. But he guessed he really shouldn't have been surprised.

As of late he hadn't been getting full nights of rest because of his dreams. It was like every night he was being shown a slide show of his worst memories. From battles to anything he deemed as unpleasant. But the oddest thing about them was the part near the end. He was pretty sure scene that'd always make him wake gasping was not a memory of his. He had made the assumption that the nightmares were merely being trigged by stress. After all he had a lot going on with the economy being crappy, the oil spill and other various things. And as he resigned himself to his fate of drifting into asleep he could only hope that the company of the others in the room would be enough to halt the nightmares.

He regretted closing his eyes. The second he did he was plagued by images of battles once fought. He saw corpse of soldiers looking at him with glassy eyes, flames eating the lands around him, and rain drowning his men in trenches. There was no sense of time, just different uniforms, different battle methods and terrains. And in between the battle scenes he saw people who were once important to him be laid to burry. All of the images were swirling together into some horrible collage of his life. And finally he began to reach the scene that always led to his waking.

It started like always, with the revolutionary war, more specifically the part where he had fallen to his knees crying because he just couldn't shoot Alfred. He could hear himself chanting "I was just doing it for you" over and over again in his head like a silent prayer. Alfred was standing over him saying "you used to be so big." But soon the scene started to change; he was no longer be kneeling in the mud with rain pelting the ground around him but on a bed in a dim room. And Alfred form was now just a black faceless shadow looming over him causing his heart rate to accelerate in fear. He was so confused and his mind had gone blank in panic. The faceless man was now mumbling "you want to be big and strong don't you?" The man's hand began to extend and grasp his shoulders, which were now tiny and quaking. He wanted to respond, tell him yes he wanted to be a big a strong country and that he wanted the man to let him go. But his voice was caught in his throat and his breaths were coming in shallow gasps. The man's hand had trailed up wards towards his cheek and he murmured "I'm doing this for you." And after the man had uttered those seemingly selfless words everything turned into a blur. There were hands roaming his body in uncomfortable places. The smell of sweat attacked his senses and then there was pain, so much pain.

Arthur awoke, and with a scream dying to be released, he gasped for air.

**A/N: hello people! I'd like to thank those who reviewed and what not! I was so nervous posting! So yeahhhh hope I don't disappoint! Constructive criticism is loved. Oh and by the by the part in his dream where the shadow dude is talking pretended it's in old English k? I fail with the translator meant for it. Oh and one more thing sorry if the French is wrong I got it from a translator as well.**


End file.
